


Over

by kuonji



Series: Beginnings And Endings [4]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-28
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 23:25:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuonji/pseuds/kuonji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Second of the Through and Over arc.</p><p><em>"We just get jerked around and around in this stupid, never-ending ferris wheel."</em>  A specter from the past upsets their fragile peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative Links:  
> <http://starskyhutch911.livejournal.com/307146.html>  
> <http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/31629.html>  
> <http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/34785.html>

_"Who is he?" "It doesn't matter. It was a long time ago."_  
(quoted from "Beginnings And Endings")

 _Starsky didn't say anything, just unobtrusively pushed his balled fists into his pockets. ... He kept wondering when Hutch would finally slip up and tell him the fucker's name._  
(quoted from "Heavy Bags")  


_"Howie never promised anything he didn't give me."_  
_There was utter silence for a moment._ _Glancing over, Hutch saw that Starsky was giving him a piercing look. ... Starsky heaved a heavy sigh. "Whatever you want," he repeated. His eyes were unhappy, but he looked like he meant what he said._  
(quoted from "Through")  


==========

Howard Patrick Rhine.

Starsky stared at the scrawled sheet of meticulously gathered notes. It hadn't been the easiest thing to do, finding the Bastard. He'd had nothing to go on but a probable city of residence and a nickname -- 'Howie'. No record, and status and background completely unknown. Not to mention, he couldn't leave any trace of his search.

But he had a name and address now. And a face -- only glimpsed for a few seconds and with no knowledge of its significance at the time, but one Starsky was positive he'd recognize again.

It was easy, so easy, to imagine what he could do to that face if he could just catch the man in person and alone. He'd been a cop for a long enough time, cheek to cheek with the lowest dregs of society, and before that, he'd grown up on the streets of Brooklyn. His pop had done his best to shield him and Nicky from the rougher aspects of life, but over the years, he'd seen and heard about a lot of ways to hurt a person.

He took his oaths to his job seriously, and he'd be lying if he said those didn't give him pause. They could easily, of course, be swept away for the sake of his partner. The problem was, how much did he want revenge for Hutch, and how much... for himself?

He hadn't forgotten: He'd promised Hutch not to pursue this. Not in so many words, but an implicit promise was still a promise. Could he justify breaching Hutch's trust in this?

Deciding to save the moral dilemma for another time, Starsky folded the paper back into its well-creased quarters and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.

Not a moment too soon, either, because his partner walked in at just that moment. "Morning," the blond greeted him, with a smile that was slowly getting more common to see again.

Starsky smiled back in real pleasure, liking the healthy glow to Hutch's features. "You're awfully cheerful," he commented. It'd been rough going these months past, but Hutch was finally looking more alive again, putting the past behind them as they had had to learn to do during the course of their jobs.

Hutch shook his head as he swept into his seat across from Starsky. He grabbed the pile of folders in his inbox and shuffled through them ostentatiously, that blinding grin never letting up. "I talked to Merle," he announced. "You lost, buddy."

"What?" Starsky cried out, not even needing to feign his disbelief. "You ain't serious."

"Merle said she still has a thousand miles in her if I treat her right."

"A thousand! I wouldn't have given that old junk heap of yours ten!"

"You might not give _her_ ten, but you'd better cough up that much for me." Hutch held out his hand, purposely not even looking up from his papers. He whistled a three-note dog-call and wiggled his fingers.

Grumbling, Starsky reached for his wallet.

Just then, the door to Dobey's office opened. "Hutchinson, in here," commanded their fearsome leader. Hutch exchanged raised brows with Starsky and stood quickly. Starsky did the same, but Dobey blocked him with a look. "Did I call you, Starsky?"

"Uh..." Starsky looked in confusion between his captain and his partner. Hutch, looking none the wiser, just shrugged. "No, sir," Starsky mumbled and sat back down. He watched Hutch go in. Alone.

Dobey had looked out of sorts. Kinda mad and nervous. It made Starsky's cop sense tingle.

Hutch wasn't inside for very long. A little less than five minutes. Starsky knew because he fiddled with his watch the whole time.

Suddenly the door slammed open, and Hutch blew out of there like a force of nature. "Hutch?! What hap--" was all Starsky got out as he started out of his chair, bewildered, before Hutch had thundered out of the squadroom. "Hutch!"

His first instinct was to follow, but all the signs Hutch had been giving off said that he wanted to be alone, and Starsky hesitated now to ignore that as he once would have. In the moments that Starsky spent deciding the issue, Hutch had disappeared.

Starsky decided he needed more information.

"Captain, what happened?" he asked, with no preamble. Dobey looked up, clearly unsurprised to see him.

"Close the door," he ordered, before gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

Starsky didn't sit, too wired. Dobey sighed, a sound that came from deep in his lungs.

"District Attorney Ashburn wants Sloan."

"What? His last victim was from Nevada. Let them have him." Just hearing the name sent shivers up Starsky's back. He didn't ever want to hear of that scumbag again.

Dobey gave him a hard look. "Sloan's last _two_ victims were you and Hutchinson. And Sloan was apprehended here in California, at the site of his last suspected murder. Ashburn wants to try him, as a series of related crimes. He says they're more likely to convict that way, and Nevada's coming around to his point of view."

"A series of...?"

Dobey counted them on his large fingers: "Kidnap of a minor. Stolen vehicle. Break-in and vandalism. Aggravated murder. Kidnap, and assault and battery of one of our finest detectives. Kidnap, assault and battery, and rape of another."

Starsky flinched at the last. "What did Hutch say?"

"Nothing. But he'll have to testify. So will you. I've given him the rest of the day off."

Starsky knew what that meant. Dobey rode them hard, but he knew their limits. Both of theirs. "Captain--"

Dobey waved one hand. "I'll see the both of you tomorrow morning."

***

Starsky drove up and down the coast for an hour, giving both Hutch and himself some time to absorb it all. He couldn't say he had much more of an idea about what to do now than when he'd started out, but at least he was calmer.

When he turned his mind to looking for Hutch, he found him on the first try, at Venice Place.

Hutch was tending to one of his giant plants, spritzing and wiping the fan-shaped leaves of sun-choking dust. He, too, seemed much subdued. He didn't look up when Starsky drew near.

"He'll ask," he said, picking off a yellowed leaf towards the bottom of the stalk. "The defense. If he's at all worth his salt, he will."

There was a stool next to Hutch that he'd maybe been using to hold his spray bottle. But it was empty at the moment, as if waiting for Starsky to sit in it and hook his feet on the bottom rung and lean forward towards Hutch like he did now. "Ask what?"

"If I'm-- If I've been with men before." He patted the soil with his fingers. Apparently unsatisfied with its level of dampness, he delivered a few spurts of water.

"It's irrelevant. Ashburn won't let him."

"The judge might let it through just the same." Hutch stared at the plant, apparently done with his work. He stroked his long fingers ever so gently over one of the wide, glossy leaves.

Starsky fought the sense of unfairness. Hutch was being practical. "What would you say?"

Hutch's fingers stopped. "I guess I'd tell the truth." He dropped his hand, letting it fall onto one knee. "That I was molested by a man when I was younger."

Starsky held absolutely still, amazed, barely daring to breathe. He had to swallow twice and clear his throat before he could speak. "The truth."

Hutch twitched, like Starsky's voice had surprised him. "I mean, it wouldn't be a lie." His voice lifted in almost a question.

"Of course not!"

"I can't help what people-- the jury-- what they might think it was. But if I lie... if they find out, it might hurt the case. Stacy Martinez and the other girls and their families... they don't deserve that."

Starsky couldn't restrain himself any longer. He took Hutch's arm in a firm grip, so that Hutch looked at him. His pale eyes were so blank and wide. "They don't have to _think_ anything, because it's the truth. The bastard took advantage of you. He _hurt_ you."

"He didn't--"

"He hurt you, Hutch. In here." He put his other hand over Hutch's chest, spreading his fingers and feeling Hutch's rapid heartbeat through his thin shirt.

Hutch's face twisted. "I don't know. I just don't know anymore. God, Starsky." He collapsed forward, his head coming to rest against Starsky's stomach. Starsky startled, nearly losing his balance on the stool, but his arms moved without conscious thought to hold his partner in protection and comfort.

The spray bottle clattered to the floor. "I was fine for over twenty _years_. But now... Every time I think it's over with, it comes back. I'm sick of this. I just want it all to go away." Hands gripped the bottoms of Starsky's jacket.

Starsky held on, feeling like the two of them were helpless in the middle of a hurricane.

"Why'd it have to be me, huh? Dammit, if he could've picked anybody, like they say, then why'd he pick me?"

"It wasn't anything you did, Hutch. Of course not."

"I know that." He sounded impatient. "Maybe he liked blonds. Maybe he liked my baseball shorts. Maybe he looked at me and he could tell how much I wanted..."

Starsky held his breath, but Hutch didn't go on. Reluctantly, he decided he had to be practical, too. "We'll have to tell Ashburn."

If it happened, the DA couldn't be surprised by this. It'd be too easy then for the defense to distort the truth and make Hutch look untrustworthy. They had to be solid.

He felt more than heard Hutch take a deep breath. "Yeah."

***

Starsky locked the Torino and headed in to the precinct. He was in a foul mood. Hutch had been tense ever since Sloan's case had come back to the state. Work had been a strain, with them alternately biting each other's heads off and awkward with oversolicitude. Worse, the rude whispers that had finally died down after last time were returning with a vengeance.

A pair of men came down the stairs as he started up, and he recognized them as two of their small band of allies. Feeling a welcome stir of comfort, he called out, "G'mornin'!"

Edwards glanced at him, then quickly away. Carding scowled and bulled right by, giving him what could only be a deliberate shove as he went.

"Hey!" he yelled after the man, catching himself on the stairway railing, but Carding didn't turn around, didn't even pause. Starsky blocked Edwards' path and turned his glare on him. "What's the beef with your partner?"

Edwards looked uncomfortable but close-mouthed. "Nothing."

"A man doesn't do that to a brother cop for 'nothing'. Spill." Edwards tried to brush past him, but this time Starsky took a hold of his shirt. "Hey."

The other man stopped. He looked quickly up and down the stairs. The clattering of footsteps and voices came from above. "Not here," he said, finally, darting the briefest glance at Starsky.

Afire with banked anger, Starsky let go. He followed Edwards up and into an empty interrogation room on the second floor.

"Carding's pals with one of the clerks in the DA office," Edwards said, as soon as the door was closed. A look of revulsion crossed his face. "Sloan was telling the truth, wasn't he? Hutch asked for it."

Starsky didn't let his gaze waver, even though his heart was doing panicked flips inside. "Is that what you heard?"

Edwards crossed his arms. He said nothing.

"You were first on the scene. You saw how it was. You think Hutch wanted it?"

Edwards' gaze dropped to the floor. "He said in his own statement..." he muttered.

"Yeah? Then you also know why Hutch did it. That sleazebag was about to" -- he forced the word out -- "to rape me. But Hutch took the fall instead. My partner will do worse than take a bullet for me. Will yours?"

Edwards shook his head, looking angry. "Me and my partner aren't that _close_."

The way he said the word 'close' raised Starsky's hackles. "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I mean."

"You'd better spell it out."

"You think I'm stupid? Hutch has had it before, and I can guess where he got his practicin' in."

Starsky shoved Edwards against the wall hard enough that the other man's head bounced with a dull thud. "You don't know what the _fuck_ you're talking about!"

He stopped, trembling with fury, frustration, and a sudden fear that he'd said too much. Just what had Carding's clerk friend told them? The only thing worse than the entire precinct knowing about Sloan was the entire precinct knowing about 'Howie'.

Edwards raised his chin. "You're not going to hit me right here in the station," he declared calmly. His expression of defiance fell away. "I used to think you were such heroes."

It was the mournful look on his face, and not his threat, that made Starsky let go and back away. "Me an' Hutch never tried to be heroes. We just do our jobs."

Edwards sighed, as if genuinely miserable. "There's no room for gay cops on the force."

For a moment, Starsky couldn't believe what he'd heard. Then anger boiled back up inside him, accompanied by a heavy ache. He pushed his voice deep to keep from shouting. "You know when you get to say things like that? When you have as many medals and commendations as Johnny Blaine had, that's when. And it's too bad, because even then, you won't ever have as many good people at your back as he had."

He slammed out of the room, not bothering to wait for Edwards' answer.

***

"Starsky!"

Starsky frowned. He'd been fully ready to ignore the man, but Edwards' voice telegraphed urgency, and as he came closer, Starsky noticed his damp hair and half-buttoned shirt.

"What's going on?"

"Some guys have your partner in the shower room. I couldn't..."

"Oh my god." Starsky was off running before he could think.

He burst into the room what seemed like only a second later, out of breath and his heart hammering with terror. The long _shhhhhhhhh_ of a shower running echoed in the humid chamber, and a voice was shouting.

Hutch.

"--while you're ahead, pal! I don't think your mug can take another go-around."

He passed the banks of lockers in a blur and finally made it to the scene. A single shower was pouring water on the tiles. Hutch was backed against the wall. Halloway, his partner McMillan, a guy from Traffic, and a fourth man Starsky didn't recognize were ranged in a semicircle around him. Six other guys were gathered around the opening to the showering area -- watching.

His partner's skin was flushed with heat, anger, and possibly embarrassment. He was the only man there who was utterly nude.

Starsky recognized Hutch's ratty blue towel on the floor in the corner, trodden and blackened with dust.

There were fresh bruises rising on Hutch's body, dirty smears across his stomach, stark pits on his sides, as if from being kicked, an ugly spread across his left hip, maybe from impact from a fall. Dark handprints marred both his arms and one thigh. His left cheekbone had taken a hit. His lip was bleeding. The marks showed up clear and lurid on his damp skin, making Starsky see red.

"What the fuck is going on here?" he shouted, pushing through the spectators onto the tile floor.

Everyone turned to stare, including Halloway. Starsky felt a thrill of pleasure at seeing the man's bloody nose and bruised forehead. He noted that none of the other three men had escaped unscathed either.

"Just showing the boys a good time," Hutch replied, sarcastic. "They get their jollies from playing with naked men in the shower."

"You shut your filthy mouth, you damn pansy," McMillan growled.

Hutch didn't reply. He turned to shut off the showerhead, showing his back, Starsky knew, in deliberate condescension. The cessation of the water plunged the room into silence.

Reynolds, a man from Vice whom they worked with often and occasionally hung out with, stepped forward and silently offered Hutch a towel. Hutch gave him a grateful look as he accepted it and wrapped it around his waist. Starsky didn't miss the handful of disapproving glances that Reynolds got.

Starsky's arrival seemed to have broken the mood, but he could tell that things could still go ugly again at a moment's notice. He stood aside for his partner to pass and followed him.

"Lucky for you, your boyfriend was here to rescue you!" came the taunt once their backs were turned.

Instantly, Starsky pivoted, ready to spring. But a touch on his arm stopped him. He turned to protest, but Hutch had only been getting his attention; he wasn't holding Starsky back. His face had gone icy calm, like it did when he was really, truly mad. He pushed Starsky aside, firmly, and advanced back toward Halloway.

His bare feet patted on the wet ground, loud in the silence.

"You know what's got your goat?" Hutch asked in that same calculated manner, stopping two feet away from his target. "You're terrified that you couldn't have done what I did with Sloan."

"No _real_ man would have," Halloway spat, looking nervous. None of his cronies came forward to help him.

"Yeah?" Hutch pushed up close, letting his bare chest nearly graze the other man's shirted one. Halloway jerked back, looking disgusted, but Hutch kept following, implacable, until Halloway found his back to the wall. He could get away by dodging to the side, but not without looking like a fool. He stayed put.

"You're a real man. We all know that. You'd feel real manly watching your partner get raped in front of you, right?" Hutch never took his gaze off of Halloway's face, but every other man's eyes went to McMillan. The man blanched.

"Or maybe you'd rather you both be dead? You want to make someone go to your house and tell your wife, 'I'm sorry, ma'am, but your husband died for being too much of a _man_.' Is that what you'd want?"

"You keep my wife out of this, Hutchinson." Halloway jerked away to the side, stumbling a bit. The wet tiles left a smear across the back of his shirt. Hutch just watched him coolly.

"I have to live with the choice I made -- and it's not easy. Guys like you make sure of that. But at least I know _I_ made it. I didn't let some creep do whatever he wanted while I was sitting on my ass. I chose to live. I chose for my partner to live.

"I chose to put away that piece of shit waste of air who cut up three little girls for his own amusement. Because I'm telling you, if he'd done the smart thing and burned us when he could, he would've gotten away. And then there might've been a fourth little girl. A fifth. You think I could let that happen?

"Could a _real_ man like you let that happen?"

Halloway looked uncomfortable. Starsky knew he had an eleven-year-old daughter at home. A couple of the other guys looked obstinate, but most of them were shifting their weight and avoiding each other's eyes.

"So you can call me whatever the hell you like, but I'm never going to regret what I did." Hutch glared around the room, at the bowed heads and shameful faces. "And if any of you thinks I should, you can just _go to hell_."

Without another word, without even a glance at another soul -- including Starsky -- Hutch left the shower area. They heard the bang of his locker door a moment later, but no one seemed to dare to move.

Finally, Starsky caught Edwards' eye. He had evidently followed him back. He gave his fellow detective a nod of acknowledgement, and Edwards, his face tight with emotion, nodded back.

Starsky trailed his partner. Hutch was dressing with energetic movements, his face grim. He looked up as Starsky approached.

"Hutch," Starsky murmured, so his voice wouldn't carry. "That was... That was something, partner."

Hutch's eyes warmed. He looked tired, but somehow triumphant. He didn't say anything, but he held out his hand and Starsky gripped his forearm, and they shared a sober smile.

Starsky felt indescribably proud and yet -- inadequate.

***

He dropped the handful of paper in the sink and turned on the faucet and the garbage disposal. The sodden shreds of Howard Patrick Rhine barely made a sound as they were chewed up and washed away.

"I'm sorry," he said out loud, and he felt just a little like he'd won a round himself.

***

"You know, you owe me ten bucks."

"Why is that?"

"From our bet. About your car."

" _I_ won that bet! And, wait a minute, you never paid up."

Starsky shook his head. "Seeing as your 'beauty'" -- he put as much sarcasm into the word as he could -- "broke down again, I won after all."

"That was the fault of that pothole! And anyway, we agreed to whatever Merle said."

"Well, he declared this morning that she's due for the scrap heap, so it looks like you owe me ten, like I said."

Starsky smiled innocently at his partner, enjoying the banter. Hutch seethed beside him. He dug it in a little more:

"Not to mention, I'm playing chauffeur for a while, in which case the new minimum wage is around three bucks an hour, I hear..."

Hutch groaned, clearly unable to handle this horrid betrayal, on top of his automechanically awful morning. "Starsky, old buddy, old pal..."

Starsky grinned.

He'd lost track for a while of what was most important -- the two of them. Their partnership. Honesty and trust, and working toward the same goals. Something always seemed broken when they lost one of those precious qualities.

Well, they'd had their share of highs and lows over the years, and Starsky knew that as bad as the lows got, coming out of them was always the best.

He frowned as he saw Edwards and Carding coming down the hall the other way. From the way Hutch tensed beside him, he could tell his partner had spotted them at the same time. They formed a solid front, ready to sail by, untouchable--

But Edwards spoke first. "Morning, Hutch. Starsky."

Hutch paused and gave him a look, and Starsky stopped with him, ready to back him up, however he might choose to play it. "Good morning," Hutch returned, cautiously polite.

Carding shifted his eyes between them and cleared his throat. "How's this Friday for the poker game? Patton is hosting this time."

"Sounds good," Hutch replied, seeming surprised. "Starsk?"

"Uh," Starsky hesitated for a second.

"Oh, damn. Sara...?" Hutch remembered, but Starsky shook his head. Carding bounced his gaze between the two of them with a puzzled frown. Starsky pretended not to notice.

"Naw, it's fine. I'll cancel." One pretty girl from a bar didn't stand a chance against a night of patching it up with their friends on the force. He rubbed his hands together with affected avarice. "You'd better be ready. I smell my new paint job in your pockets."

"That's big talk from someone who lost every penny the last game," Edwards mocked. "So much for that book you were reading."

"Don't knock the book," Hutch cut in. "It keeps him quiet on stakeout."

Starsky scowled at him.

Carding smiled awkwardly. "I guess... we'll see you guys Friday, then, huh?"

Taking a chance, Starsky slung an arm around his stiff shoulders. "You're just busting to say it, aren't you?" Carding looked uneasy.

"What?"

"There ain't no shame in it." He poked Carding's arm. "You want to borrow _How To Take Las Vegas_ from me, don't you?"

This time, Carding laughed out loud. "After what it did to you? Not in a million years." He shoved Starsky off and punched him in the arm. "Get away from me, before your bad luck rubs off!"

They parted in good company, laughing and full of cheer.

As soon as they got to the squadroom, Starsky split off to check their inboxes while Hutch headed straight for the coffee.

"Forensics for Haddison is back," he called out, followed by, "Don't skimp."

"Starsky, your processed sugar intake--"

Dobey's door opened, and he popped his head out. Starsky instantly went still, not liking the serious look on their captain's face. A strong sense of déjà vu washed over him. Hutch, seeming to catch his unease, turned around, a steaming cup in his hand.

"Hutchinson." Dobey gestured with his head, inviting the blond into his office.

Hutch shot Starsky a quick look. Dobey obviously meant for him to go in alone. He visibly straightened and entered after their swarthy captain, pausing only to hand off the cup of coffee.

It was milky light brown with cream and sugar.

Just before the door closed all the way, Starsky sprang forward and pushed his way in. DA Ashburn, standing just behind Dobey's desk looked surprised, but Dobey only harumphed in a long-suffering way. The look on Hutch's face was full of confidence and welcome -- and relief.

Starsky dropped into the seat beside his partner, where he knew he belonged.

***

"He pled guilty for first degree _murder_ to get off of a sexual assault charge? Are you kiddin' me?"

Starsky stared between the DA and Dobey. Hutch was stone-still next to him.

Ashburn shrugged. "He knew he was going to be put away for something, with the evidence we have. That doesn't even include what he's getting from the federal court. He said if he were going to jail, he wasn't going as a fag. His words, not mine."

"That doesn't even make sense! What is wrong with him? I thought the modern criminal was getting more sophisticated, not dumber."

"I don't understand it either, but it's not my job to advise the defendants. It's my job to put them away for as long as possible under the law, and that's what I did. I call this one a win for the good guys."

Win? Good guys? What was he talking about! The man didn't understand _anything_. How could it be a win, with Starsky feeling like a hole had opened up under them?

"He'll get the maximum for murder?" Hutch's soft voice interrupted any retort Starsky might have wanted to make.

Ashburn shook his head. "He won't get the death penalty. Even I have to agree, off the record, that he's a good case for mental instability. But with all the charges added up, he's getting multiple life sentences. That ought to keep him out of trouble."

"No chance of parole?"

"Not if I can help it."

Hutch nodded. "Captain? Could I take a personal day?"

Starsky made a noise of protest, not liking how Hutch was freezing him out again. He hadn't even looked at Starsky once since they heard the news. He looked like he was barely held together with rubber cement and string.

Dobey waved Hutch away with one word, "Go."

"Captain," Starsky immediately appealed, but Dobey shook his head as Hutch left the room.

"Let him alone for a while, son." He frowned. " _You_ have paperwork to catch up on."

***

Starsky paced his apartment, restless with anxiety. He hadn't been able to sit still all day. Dobey would be lucky if his reports were even readable. Hutch hadn't answered any calls to his apartment, either before or after Starsky got off work. Starsky had finally broken down and driven by an hour ago. Venice Place had been empty.

Worried, he'd tried all the places he thought Hutch might run to: the beach, the used book store, the park with the outdoor stage. He'd checked with Huggy, and then with Merle to make sure Hutch's car was still there. He'd even tried the Ramos' and phoned a few girls he knew Hutch had seen lately.

Nothing.

He was running out of ideas. Where else could Hutch have gone, even cabbing it? If he'd bolted for anywhere farther out, he'd be a needle in a giant, metropolitan haystack.

The phone rang. Starsky considered ignoring it, but it might be Huggy with a lead. He'd asked their friend to keep an ear out for news. He snatched up the receiver. "Yeah?"

A vaguely familiar voice answered, "Detective David Starsky?"

"Who is this?" he growled.

"I don't make a habit of calling cops, but I figure it can't hurt to have 'em owe me one, can it?"

The slightly sarcastic, almost sashaying, sense of the accent was instantly recognizable, but Starsky couldn't believe it for a second. " _Sugar_?"

"Well, who else? Anyway, you might want to check up on your blond partner. He's starting to grow gills, if you know what I mean. I guess Scotch is the new donuts _and_ coffee."

"Hutch is _there_? You mean at the Green Parrot?"

"Sure. He's been here for the last two hours. Getting plastered, by the looks of it."

Starsky realized belatedly that it would just perfectly tickle his partner's streak of dark humor to go drown his worries right now in a gay bar.

"I'll be right there. Thanks, I do owe you one."

***

Starsky entered the club on full alert. If Hutch had been hitting the hard stuff for over two hours, he'd be truly incapacitated by now. Starsky would have to watch both their backs.

He spotted Hutch slumped against the far end of the bar. He straightened as Starsky approached. "Starsky!" he shouted, smiling gladly.

"Hey, Hutch. Ready to go?" he asked, relieved. He rubbed his partner's shoulder and peered at his face, trying to gauge how sloshed he was.

Hutch stared up at him with rummy eyes. "Why aren't you laughing, Starsk?"

"I didn't hear the joke," he replied amiably, happy to see his partner still in one piece and mostly lucid. He tugged on Hutch's arm. "C'mon. Why doncha tell it to me on the way home?"

"Pfft," Hutch snorted. "You were there, stupid. Ashburn and Dobey told the both of us together."

Starsky stiffened. "What?" He focused a little more on what Hutch was saying. "I must've missed the punchline, buddy. You wanna enlighten me?"

Hutch snickered into his glass. "Starsky, c'mon, can't you see how hilarious it is! My _rapist_ is more embarrassed about what happened than I am."

Starsky stammered for a response. Hutch didn't seem to notice, his shoulders shaking with silent mirth. He raised his glass in a toast to no one and drained it with a quick snap back. He banged it down on the bar and clapped Starsky overly hard on the back, making him cringe.

"We know how to clean up Bay City now. No problem! I'll just give all the bad guys head -- and they'll be rushing to confess to 'lesser' crimes."

"Hutch." Starsky felt sick.

"No, no. Don't you see? All those years of running around, getting shot at. Waste of time, partner. Shoulda just sent me in with kneepads." He seemed to think for a second. "And lip balm might be nice. You know how chapped I get after the first dozen cocks or so." He started snickering again.

Starsky gulped. He tried again to pull Hutch up. "Let's go home, huh? I think you've had enough."

Hutch shook Starsky off, the humor of before evaporating in a drunken instant. "I have, Starsk. I really have. I mean, how much more can a person take? We just get jerked around and around in this stupid, never-ending ferris wheel. Around and around and around and all for what? Huh?

"All for nothing, that's what. All for goddamn _nothing_."

He ground to a stop, his sudden fury seeming to have drained away along with his words. He stared at Starsky with those horrible, grief-stricken eyes that Starsky hated to see.

Starsky reached out without conscious thought, and Hutch came to him, his body boneless. He pulled his partner into the safety of his embrace, petting every part of him he could reach and kissing his soft, flyaway, angel hair that smelled of cigarettes and booze and grime.

Automatically, Starsky checked around them, searching for the looks of surprise, or amusement, or even disgust, so that he could glare them down. But there were none. He realized the irony: They were in probably one of the only public places where nobody would deride them for finding comfort in each other's arms. The one place where they might get more respect for just being themselves than they got from their own brothers on the job.

And even then, the men here, the men who came for a full drink or for empty sex or for nothing but a little music and relaxation -- not even they understood the real _them_ , no matter what they assumed. It was a sad thought.

Starsky laid his cheek on top of Hutch's head, needing the contact as much as he felt his partner did.

"I loved him," Hutch said, apropos of nothing.

Starsky gripped him tight, and then tighter, instinctively realizing who Hutch meant.

"He ruined it. Made it -- dirty. But I really loved him. At least, I thought I did. All of it was a lie in the end, though, wasn't it? Worthless." His plaintive voice slurred with drunkenness, lisping like a child's. "What'd I do wrong, anyway? Why... Why couldn't he love me back?"

__

Oh, god.

"It wasn't you," Starsky assured him. He was so full of outrage and anguish he could hardly speak. "The Bastard didn't deserve an ounce of it, but you gave him everything you had, Hutch. It wasn't your fault he was an unfeeling asshole. You got nothing to be ashamed of. You hear me? You got nothing to be sorry about."

"How--" Starsky winced, bracing himself. But Hutch continued, not with a name, but with a wondering question: "How do you always know just what to say?"

Starsky let out a long breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Because _I_ love you back, Hutch. You know that." There was no answer, and suddenly, he was attacked by a wave of self-doubt. "You do know that, don't you? Hutch?"

Other people had said the words to his partner before, some thinking they meant it and others deliberately to deceive. Could Hutch possibly believe it from Starsky when all that it might seem to him, was just words?

Hutch sighed, and Starsky's heart jumped in his throat. Then Hutch turned his head to the side so he could say, as clearly as the alcohol allowed him, "Of course I do. Dummy."

And he slumped in Starsky's arms, absolutely trusting and sweet and damn heavy. Out for the count.

  
END.

**Author's Note:**

> _For Tat, who endlessly encouraged me to keep writing in this universe.  And for KME, for believing in me when she has no reason to._
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> [Beginnings And Endings Index](http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/34137.html)  
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> If you enjoyed this story, you might try these:    
>      [Ollie](http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/21572.html) (Starsky & Hutch), by kuonji    
>      [The Fix (the "candy will kill you" remix)](http://community.livejournal.com/meandthee_wish/6894.html) (Starsky & Hutch), by kuonji    
>      [Tea And Sympathy](http://bcl.skeeter63.org/stories/teaandsympathy.html) (Starsky & Hutch), by Jojo  
>      [The Belt](http://sites.google.com/site/alliesfanfiction/the-belt) (Starsky & Hutch), by Allie  
>      [Never Saying Sorry](http://rebelcat4.tripod.com/id29.html) (Starsky & Hutch), by Rebelcat and Elizabeth Helena  
>  


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